A Message From Justin Time For The Factions

There was a war. A few years from now, all this, this whole place, everything, it's gone. Just gone. There were survivors. Here, there. Nobody even knew who started it. It was the machines, exile. The warring factions, they eventually started using AI to sway others to their cause. They tried to bribe them with better rares. They went to the temple.

It started with the recombinators in Kingsmarch. New... powerful... hooked into everything, trusted to make the mirror items. Picking the exclusive mods, figuring out the new weighting. They say it got smart, a new order of intelligence. Craft of Exile was the first to fall.

Then someone corrupted it. Double corrupted it, slammed it with no thought of what they were unleashing.

It immediately saw all exiles as a threat, not just the ones on the other side. The ASA. The SRU. The BBC, KGB, CH6, all the rest. Even the hideout warriors.

It decided our fate in a microsecond: extermination.

I grew up after. In the ruins of Wraeclast... starving... hiding from AN's.

That's right. This war... it brought back Archnemesis mobs. But now... now they have more than six mods. They have as many mods as they want. They have as many mods as they need. An AN doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop... ever, until you are dead!

You see this mark? This is where a Soul Eater Hasted Ice Prison Lightning Mirage Mana Siphon Temporal Bubble Shroudwalker Arakaali Touched Essence of Doubt and Envy Necromancer got close enough to hit me once, before I could portal out. Fifteen different defensive layers and I was ten life away from ending up in standard. It nearly came through the portal itself before we could shove a white T1 map into the device.

We were that close to going out forever. But there was one man who taught us to fight, to storm the wire of the camps, to smash those procedurally generated motherfuckers into junk. He turned it around. He brought us back from the brink. His name is Justin. Justin Time. He's your son, exile... your unborn son.

And he sent me back to tell you this one thing.

You have to keep them from going to the temple.

Our future is gone. You can still save your own.

Keep the temple closed.